Two hours after I had begun, I was pulling a gorgeous lemon meringue pie out of the oven. The kitchen smelled wonderful and the meringue had a faintly golden brown surface. And, of course, the crust was perfect.
Alex and I had pie that night for dinner, two pieces each. The pie did its work. After cleaning the kitchen, I led the way to bed where I soon fell asleep, awash in dreams full of holiday fantasies.
Chapter 3
I woke the next morning with my subconscious serving up a plan as to how I was going to not only go about searching for young Daniel Evans but ultimately find him. Because I believed him to be alive. My plan was fueled by a restless night spent dreaming of my youth in Hope Falls, and more specifically, my days spent playing in a forbidden place known only as the Wash. The Wash was a large drainage ditch that ran between a set of tract homes built near the Falls. In fact, the Wash ultimately opened out into a marsh just beyond the park at the Falls, dumping whatever water it might be carrying, ranging from a trickle to a torrent, into the mighty White Water River.
As kids we were told to stay out of the Wash. We were told of dangerous vagabonds and even more dangerous wild animals that roamed the Wash looking for young children to eat. But most of all, we were told stories warning us of the Black Pipe. This was someplace we were never, ever, under any circumstance to go anywhere near, for surely it must contain the very gates to Hell. Of course, these stories made it inevitable that every child would eventually venture into the Wash at some point in their lives and that the Wash would ultimately become a favorite play area for kids of all ages. Still, you’d steer clear of the Black Pipe if you were smart.
The Wash contained many mysteries. My friends and I, mostly boys, once found an old trunk in the Wash containing comic postcard samples. We went door-to-door selling them and made almost ten dollars before discarding the remainder ourselves. Another time we spent almost an entire summer damming up the Wash to produce a pond to swim in. And don’t you know we kept our eyes out for crocodiles, snapping turtles, and other beasties that we were sure lived in the reeds amongst the marsh and would love nothing more than to swim up to our little pond to have our toes and fingers for lunch.
Since town had been turned upside down in a general search, I was sure that if Daniel Evans was anywhere, he was in the Wash. I was bound and determined to go there looking for him. Of course, to perform a thorough search of the area, I would have to venture into the Black Pipe. Just the thought of going anywhere near that thing still sent shivers up my spine, but it had to be done and soon. The weather could turn at any time and if he were in the pipe, he would drown.
It was drizzling lightly when I arrived at the park during my lunch hour and leashed Blue so that she would stick close by my side. I left my patrol cart and walked Blue across the park. At the edge of the gardens, we slipped through one of several holes in the chain link fence and into the marsh on our way to the Wash. Along the way, we passed places where my friends and I had built, and then had to defend, various forts and playhouses. It brought a smile to my face remembering those happy, more carefree days.
When I arrived at the official start of the Wash, I ran into a group of boys throwing rocks in an attempt to sink sticks they were floating on the considerable current. I recognized the game from my own youth.
“Hey, guys. Can I talk with you for a minute?” I called.
I was afraid that they might scatter when they saw my uniform. Instead, the bigger of the boys, obviously the leader, led the others to stand before me.
“What can we do for you, Officer?” he asked confidently.
“What’s your name?”
“Scott,” the boy replied. “And this is Randy and Pete.”
“Scott,” one of the other boys said, slapping at his shoulder.
“It’s alright,” I assured them. “I’m not here to bust you.”
“Then why are you here?” Scott asked.
“I’m looking for a young boy named Daniel Evans. Here’s his picture,” I said, handing my copy of the photo to the boy.
“What’s he done?” Scott asked defensively.
“Nothing. He’s lost. I’m trying to find him. So, have you seen him?”
“Nope. Not me,” the boy replied. “How about you guys?” he asked, passing the photo around.
The other two boys gave the photograph a good looking over. Fortunately I had thought to slip it into a plastic sheath before bringing it out in the rain. Once they’d seen it, they all looked up and shook their heads and grumbled in the negative. I retrieved the photo and slipped it back into my coat and zipped it up for safe keeping.
“How long has he been missing?” Scott asked.
“Three days,” I replied.
Again the boy shook his head, expressing the same thought I was having; namely, three days is a long time to be missing.
“How about in the marsh? Have you boys been there yet?”
“Oh yeah,” Scott informed me. “We’ve been all through the marsh. At least to all the places that kids hang out. We haven’t seen a sign of this kid though.”
All of us stood, uncomfortably considering what to say next. Then Scott looked like he’d come up with an idea.
“If he’s in the Wash, there’s only one place he could be that we wouldn’t have seen him.”
We all knew what he was talking about; I didn’t even need to ask. The group turned and I followed their line of sight with my eyes. There it was, some hundred feet away, sticking out of the far bank with water already draining out of it at a considerable pace. The Black Pipe.
The Story of the Black Pipe
Today was the day we all gathered in the Wash in anxious anticipation. This was the day I was to lead my friends into the Black Pipe. The day I had been dreading all week. Though I was only ten years old at the time, I was cocky for my age, and it was that cockiness that had led us all, at least me and my friends, to this current troubling state of affairs.
The Black Pipe was a simple drainage pipe sticking out of the dirt bank forming one side of the Wash. Unlike the other drainage pipes, this one was actually large enough for a child to enter while barely having to crouch. And it was painted black. The pipe ran hundreds of yards under houses and fields to meet up with a larger part of the drainage system that actually had manhole covers. At least so rumor had it from the handful of kids who had made it that far through the darkness and returned to tell about it.
The Black Pipe had a bad reputation. This reputation spanned generations and was handed down from father to child in the form of warning and threats, all preceding the insistence that we never go near the thing. Amongst the kids there were rumors, rumors of animals and monsters, and even a rumor of a group of kids that had entered the Black Pipe never to return. Certainly there were times when it sounded like some demon’s larynx.
Now I was about to enter the belly of the beast at the head of a ragtag band of preteens armed with nothing more than a flashlight and a pocket full of M&Ms. How had I gotten myself into this mess? Oh yeah, it had all started earlier in the week. The way home from school could be fraught with trouble.
My friends and I had been working our way homeward when we spotted trouble up ahead. The roadblock took the form of a group of big kids hanging out on the corner swapping gossip and messing around on their skateboards. My friends wanted to turn back and take the long way home but I wasn’t willing to take the long way for anyone. We were several feet away and I was sure we were going to pass without incident when we were spotted.
“Hey look, it’s the kindergarteners,” Larry Gartner said.
Larry Gartner was a known bully who loved nothing more than to harass smaller kids. And since he was huge, this harassment was aimed at most everybody. I wanted to walk up to him and sock him in the nose—though I probably would have had a hard time reaching that high—but opted instead to walk past without comment.
“What’s the matter, little girl? Cat got your tongue?” Larry said and then started laughing.
I didn’t think the putdown was particularly clever, but what did you expect from a guy who had been held back a couple of grades? In any case, I had decided early on in life that I wasn’t going to take any guff, especially not from the likes of Larry Gartner. So, I turned and let him have it.
“Why aren’t you in your gorilla cage, Gartner? Is it your day off from the zoo?”
Again, not particularly clever, but the best I could do on such short notice. Larry’s friends laughed. So did mine for that matter, but they also moved to stand behind me. Larry didn’t laugh; in fact, he looked pissed.
“If you weren’t a girl, I’d give you a fat lip,” he snarled.
If there was anything I hated it was being called a girl.
“Well if you weren’t a girl, I’d give you one right back.”
Again his friends and mine snickered.
“Ha ha, Boston.” Oh shoot, he knew my name. “Very funny. But who are you calling names? After all, I’ve been all the way to the end of the Black Pipe and back.”
Of course, I had heard this rumor before. Some kids marveled over the accomplishment. I had also heard that Gartner bandied the achievement around like it made him some kind of hero or something. I, for one, wasn’t impressed, and I was determined to let him know it.
“So what? Walking through some drainage pipe is no big deal. I could do it with my eyes closed.”
“Yeah,” my friend Billy Oakes said in support. “She could,” he swiftly amended.
“Yeah?” Larry snarled. “Well, if you’re so brave, why don’t you show up this Saturday at noon at the Black Pipe and lead your friends to the end and back?”
My body froze in terror at the mere suggestion. I wished later that my lips had frozen.
“We’ll see you there,” I said, walking confidently away from Larry.
My statement was met by hoots of approval from Larry’s friends. My friends followed me, whispering amongst themselves.
“You better be there, Boston,” Larry called after us. “Otherwise, you’re a big wussy.”
Again I considered turning back and socking him in the nose, but didn’t. My friends barely waited long enough until we were out of earshot before they started to complain.
“Man, Boston. What did you get us into this time?” Bruce Finch whined.
“I’d go with you, Chloe. But I’ve got band practice,” Billy Oakes added.
“You have band practice on Sunday,” I reminded him.
“Oh yeah.”
“Well, I’m not going,” Elmer Watzl said. “I’ve heard there are monsters in the Black Pipe.”
I’d met Elmer one day on the way to school when I came across him being made fun of by a bunch of kids because of his name. I’d stood up for him that day and sent those kids packing. We’d been close friends ever since. Of all my friends, I’d been sure that Elmer would have been behind me when I entered the pipe. His refusal to go hurt a little.
“Look, guys,” I said, stopping to address them. “We all need to be there and go into the pipe together on Saturday. If we don’t, Gartner will make sure word gets around school and we’ll be laughingstocks.”
My friends considered my words solemnly.
“Maybe we don’t have to go all the way to the end,” Bruce suggested. “After all, they’ll never know if we just go in a few yards, wait a while, and then come back.”
“They’ll know, Bruce,” I said.
And my friends knew I was right. I stuck out my hand. Each of my friends eventually laid their hand on mine in a show of solidarity.
“Larry Gartner’s a big fat wussy,” I cried out as we threw our hands high.
My friends and I laughed together, though not perhaps as heartily as before, and then continued home.
Rumors of our impending doom spread through school the next day. Several kids, even some I didn’t know that well, warned me not to go. They shared the stories that they’d heard, stories about packs of roving mutants that lived in the Black Pipe, cave-ins that had buried kids alive, and even suggested we might get arrested, which would be embarrassing considering my father was the chief of police. I laughed it all off, even as my insides twisted more and more with each new story. Bruce, Billy, and Elmer all tried to talk me out of going, but I stuck to my guns.
Now the day had arrived. It was a rare dry day, so there were no torrents of water to contend with. Had it been raining, I would have had to call things off. I stood on trembling legs on the bank of the Wash, above the Black Pipe, looking down at Larry Gartner and his friends who were waiting below. My three friends were behind me. I was proud of the simple fact that we’d shown up, even if some of us chickened out in the end. We all slid down the bank and stood before Larry Gartner, arms crossed over our chests in defiance, that and to keep them from shaking.
“Well, look who decided to show up after all,” Larry greeted us with a smirk. “It’s the kindergarten babies, born in the gravy.”
“Oh, it’s you, Larry. I thought I smelled something bad in the Wash this morning.”
I’d had time to prepare what I was going to say this time and thought my opening line was a real zinger. Again, Larry’s friends and mine both laughed. I found courage even in this limited form of support.
“Are you ready to go in?” he asked.
“I was born ready.”
I looked up and saw that a group of kids had formed on the far bank to watch. Some of them looked as though they wanted to cry out for me not to go. One solemnly waved goodbye. I walked to the mouth of the Black Pipe and removed my flashlight from my coat pocket.
“Flashlights are for wussies,” Larry said, placing a restraining hand on my shoulder.
“This must be yours then,” I replied, handing him my flashlight.
Larry’s friends gathered the flashlights from Bruce, Billy, and Elmer. All that was left to do was to step up onto the lip of the pipe.
“Chloe, I don’t think I can do this,” I heard Elmer whine from directly behind me.
Then I heard Larry laugh.
“Just grab onto my coat and close your eyes after you get inside,” I instructed.
I stepped up into the pipe. Then I turned back to help each of my friends to follow. They joined hands and Elmer grabbed onto the tail of my coat. I started to walk into the darkness.
“It’s been nice knowing you, Boston,” Larry called into the opening.
“Wish I could say the same, Gartner,” I replied.
Though it had stopped raining the day before, there was still a steady stream of water flowing down the center of the pipe. I walked with my feet to either side, stepping on the base of each curved wall to keep my feet dry. I heard some sloshing behind me before my friends caught on and followed suit. Larry hooted and made spooky noises back at the mouth. I think he also chose to stand there to block what little light entered the pipe from the opening.
It was pitch black. My knees were shaking. I walked with my hands out in front of me, afraid with every step that I was about to walk into a wall, or even worse, a roving mutant.
“Chloe, I’m scared,” Elmer said.
“Me too,” Billy added.
“Count me in too,” Bruce concluded.
“I know, just keep walking,” I instructed.
We’d made it no farther than ten yards into the pipe when my hand touched something firm in front of me. As my hand explored it, a flashlight sprang to life lighting the face that belonged to the hand. The light was held close to the face, shining up at it to make it look sinister. At the same time the light appeared, the face screamed. I screamed too and almost peed my pants.
Elmer let go of my coat and began screaming. I heard someone’s head hit the top of the pipe. Then there was chaos as my screaming and crying friends turned and splashed their way back toward the mouth of the pipe. There was also laughter coming from Larry Gartner behind me and from the face in front of me. Though the light distorted his features, I recognized the face of Chris Parks, one of Gartner�
��s friends. I felt like a fool for not having accounted for all of Larry’s friends before entering the pipe. In embarrassment and rage I struck out at the crouching boy, easily connecting my fist with his nose. There was a splash as Parks fell backward into the running water and gunk lining the bottom of the pipe. His light went out.
“Hey, I think you broke my nose,” Chris whined, thrashing to get up.
I think he was right since I’d felt a satisfying crunch when my fist made contact.
“You deserve worse,” I informed him in an adrenaline-induced shriek.
Pushing him aside, I continued walking into the darkness, this time faster, with renewed purpose. Fueled by anger, I refused to turn back.
“Where are you going?” Parks called after me.
“To the end of the pipe and back,” I called back.
It seemed to take hours to reach the point at which the Black Pipe opened into the larger drainage system. I spent most of the journey in a daze. When I reached the end, I was met by shafts of light cast down into the darkness from the holes in a manhole cover above. Finally able to stand upright, I stretched my back, which was sore from having spent so much time crouching. Then there was nothing else to do but turn around and go back. The return journey was much easier and seemed to go faster. My heart began to slow only when I could truly see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Teetering with my toes hanging over the edge of the Black Pipe, I found Larry Gartner standing before me, a huge grin on his ugly mug. And since, this time, his ugly mug was within easy reach, I punched him in the nose. Hard. He fell on his butt in the dirt and put his hand to his face. Blood flowed between his fingers. To make things even sweeter, I got to watch him crawl to his feet and run away crying.
The kids watching from the far bank cheered then slid down into the Wash to welcome me back from Hell. As I jumped down from the mouth of the Black Pipe I saw my friends sitting together and looking sheepish. Bruce was holding a bloody handkerchief to his forehead. Billy refused to meet my eyes. Elmer got up to come speak with me.
Beast of a Feast Page 3
